making space for grace

I had the incredible privilege recently of hearing Rob Bell and Peter Rollins speak during their Brooklyn stop on their Holy Shift tour. Both of these men have been instrumental in shaping my faith and praxis, so the chance to see them both in person was really exciting. The evening did not disappoint; it was a perfect blend of comedy and philosophy (which pair better than you’d think).

My OneWord365 for this year is “onward.” I chose it carefully (or rather, it chose me) – and while it will probably end up being about a lot of related things, at its heart, this word for me is really about one thing: getting past something that – for whatever reason – I just can’t seem to get past; moving on; letting it go; being done. Onward.

Rollins and Bell covered a lot of ground in a few short hours, but there were three main ideas they spoke to that brought a few things into shaper focus for me in regards to my “onward” journey.

– one –

We’re all chasing after something. Whether it’s forgiveness, healing, a new job, a relationship, or even inspiration – there is something we want, something we’re pursuing.

Peter Rollins observed that grace is the space where we are free from the pursuit, where we are free to simply be; to cease striving, as the psalm puts it, and breathe. So how do we find that space?

Liturgy.

The technology of theology is liturgy, and liturgy makes space for grace. - @PeterRollins Click To Tweet

I knew when I finally started looking for a church home again last summer that I wanted something more traditional. I didn’t just want liturgy; I craved it. I’d been missing it for years, but after my “break-up” with the church, I found myself instinctively distrusting non-liturgical churches as a path forward for me. Wherever I ended up, I needed liturgy. I couldn’t have told you why.

But I can now.

I needed it because when I don’t have words, the liturgy does – and when I can’t engage with the words of the liturgy, someone else is doing it for me, and vice versa. There is a unity and universality to the liturgy that gives structure to faith, and it is built of time-honored stuff: call to worship, creed, confession, assurance of pardon, communion, benediction (and so much more). Liturgy connects us, to God and to each other.

And liturgy makes space for grace.

– two –

This may not be a verbatim quote – but it’s the gist of it:

We all have ghosts. Don't let them turn into poltergeists. - @PeterRollins Click To Tweet

Growing up in the 1980s-90s, being a “latch-key kid” was common enough in a world that was (or at least seemed to be) a lot safer, but it wasn’t the norm in our family, so the first time I was put “in charge” of my sister for 45 minutes after school, I felt a bit anxious. In fact, I was so nervous about the change in routine and the added responsibility that when the bell rang for lunch, I mistook it for the end of school bell, and raced to the playground to meet my little sister. When she didn’t come out, I went to her classroom. Her teacher was, of course, mystified as to what I was doing, trying to pick up my sister in the middle of the day, and my sister had to set me straight about what time it was. Mortified – and in tears – I went back to my classroom to put my backpack away.

I ran into my “best friend” in the stairwell, who wanted to know why I was so upset, so I told her what had happened. She promised not to tell anyone – but fifteen minutes later, pretty much the whole class knew what happened. We got through it – we’re still friends – but it is still one of the first things that comes to mind for me in those horrifying group bonding exercises when asked to share a “most embarrassing moment” story. Why? It was a simple mistake. It was not a big deal.

Except.

Several people I really admired and whose opinions mattered to me didn’t see the heart of my mistake (anxiety about a responsibility); they saw my mistake. I felt stupid for making a mistake in the first place – and when I told the truth about feeling stupid, that trust was betrayed.

In the long run, the details of this small story don’t really matter – but the feelings that betrayed trust evokes do, no matter how significant (or insignificant) the events around it are.

We all have things we wish we could undo or forget. The trick is to not let those memories – ghosts, if you will – turn into poltergeists.

– three –

Rob Bell is an incredibly gifted storyteller. At one point during his talk, he told a collection of seven stories about things he’d experienced, ranging from the mundane to the dramatic.

And this is what life is: a series of moments, a collection of stories. Significant and insignificant events.

Some things truly matter. Others, maybe not so much.

And sometimes, the reason we’re having a really hard time getting past something is because we’re still trying to categorize it in some way that doesn’t quite work, instead of simply letting it be a thing that happened, until meaning emerges (or doesn’t).

There are two kinds of suffering that we can experience when difficult things happen. There’s the heartache that results from the experience itself – the natural hurt of betrayal, the emotional impact of brokenness in relationships. But there’s also a level of angst that we create for ourselves – when we don’t respond in healthy ways, or try to understand it or process through it in ways that just aren’t helpful.

– making space for grace-

The truth is that I need liturgy because we need grace.  And liturgy makes space for grace.

Every week at Trinity Grace, I am reminded that “the Lord is compassionate and gracious, slow to anger, abounding in love. He will not always accuse, nor will he harbour his anger for ever; he does not treat us as our sins deserve or repay us according to our iniquities. For as high as the heavens are above the earth, so great is his love for those who fear him; as far as the east is from the west, so far has he removed our transgressions from us.” (Psalm 103:8-12, NIVUK)

I need that kind of mercy and grace, and so do the people and events that I’ve allowed to become poltergeists.  Grace – given and received – is the only thing that can stop the ghosts of unfortunate memories from rattling their chains incessantly and stomping around in the attics of my heart and soul.

Grace and peace spoken over my life by others, mercy and forgiveness spoken over the lives of those who have injured me – these are the tools that will allow the Things That Have Happened to simply be things that happened..

It takes time. It’s okay that it takes time. As Rob Bell said in one of his podcasts earlier this year, sometimes forgiveness looks like being a little less bitter every day. The point is to keep moving – to not stay put, and to not wallow forever in the dark, hard, hurtful, unjust moments of the past, but to choose – one day at a time – the higher ways of grace: to remember that all of us fall short, and to extend the same grace that makes space for us to others.

I’m working on it.

Onward, then.

photo credit: Thomas Bormans on Unsplash